nine2five 6 Stand Up
by Marc Vun Kannon
Summary: Sarah's flying First Class to Paris, and she makes a new friend named Hannah.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** This episode occupies the same timeslot as Chuck vs. First Class. I expect the story will diverge widely, although I will try to keep what I can from the original. Shaw is not in charge, Chuck is not an agent.

* * *

_Chuck walked into the Buy More, his home away from home, his domain, his castle…his shirt kept coming untucked! Dammit! He was assistant manager now. How could he command respect when his shirt kept untucking itself? He fumbled, trying to get the unruly ends below the beltline, but his oversized assistant manager's vest kept getting in the way._

_No one saw. No one was watching. No one was there._

_The break room. A cup of coffee sat on the table, right in front of his favorite chair. He sat, and instantly felt the squelch of super glue soaking through his pants and sticking to his legs. He couldn't stand. "Chuck!" he called, and then remembered that _he_ was Chuck. Morgan was in Hawaii. He had no one–_

_Through the window he saw Sarah, Casey, and Shaw looking in at him. Shaw shook his head. Casey sneered. Sarah…Sarah…this was her plan! She glued him to the seat! How could he get out of the car when he couldn't get out of the chair?_

"_Sorry, Chuck," he heard her say, though her lips didn't move. "I'm having drinks with the Sultan later and I need to keep you safe." She turned and walked away in her fancy gown._

"_Sarah! Sarah!"_

* * *

Sarah sat next to Chuck's bed in the recovery room, as she had for the last three hours and would for the next three, or as many as need be. He wasn't moving, hadn't so much as twitched as she and Ellie had to practically pour him onto the gurney. Usually he was so stiff after a download but today he collapsed in a boneless heap even as the door opened.

And now…nothing. Ellie had left her on watch as she contacted the General. Ellie had brought her the recordings of their mission and she had listened to them all. Ellie analyzed the telemetry and called the General again.

Sarah waited, and watched. Sarah saw the screen blip. Sarah saw the eyes twitch.

"Sarah!" he called weakly. "Sarah!"

"Ellie!"

"On my way!"

Ellie barreled through the door, taking in all the monitors as she crossed the floor to Chuck's bedside.

"He called my name."

"Call his."

"Chuck! Chuck, I'm here."

His eyes snapped open. "Sarah! You didn't–! Don't–! I—I…"

Sarah watched as his face lost that panicked look, his voice winding down as he became aware of the two women watching over him. "I'm right here, Chuck, I'm not going anywhere."

He looked at her. Saw her.

"What are you afraid of?"

Lied to her. "I—don't remember."

* * *

"General, he's awake."

Beckman clasped her hands in front of her, and favored Ellie with her most attentive scowl. "Yes, Doctor, I gathered that from the fact that you're calling me, and I told you to call me back when he's awake. The question is, is he Chuck?"

"Who else would he be?"

The General was clearly trying to use small words. "Someone who _isn't_ Chuck, presumably."

"Well, I'm pretty sure it is Chuck in there, General. He woke up straight out of a nightmare, and the first thing he did was ask Sarah if _she's_ okay."

Beckman smiled. "That certainly sounds like him to me. But if that's the case, who–more importantly where–is Charles Carmichael?"

Ellie shrugged. "Exactly what he was created to be, the person my brother always wanted to be. Suave, successful, powerful, confident. He's a role that Chuck plays when he wants–or needs–to be more than he thinks he already is."

"That sounded like much more than a role today, Doctor."

"So do you, General. And so does Doctor Bartowski. We have our uniforms to add to the illusion, Chuck had a whole screen to hide himself behind. You should have seen his Perchik, and that was on stage, with just makeup."

"Did he do the dance, too?" Beckman shook her head to clear it of the image. "Regardless, I still want it looked into."

"Of course. I will be going over the telemetry very carefully, General, as well as interviewing Casey and Sarah."

"Whatever for?"

"They're the only ones with any prior experience with the Carmichael persona, back when they were his handlers, unless you count the bad guys he put away."

"Yes, it's unfortunate that Mr. Colt died recently, his experience with Carmichael was most direct. You can review his interrogations at least. There's another that comes to my mind, but he's in Witness Protection and unavailable to us."

"I don't think we'll need him, General. I'm pretty certain that this was all about Sarah, and Chuck was simply rising to the occasion."

* * *

"Mrs. Bartowski, for the purposes of this interview I am Dr. Woodcombe, please address me as such. I am the head researcher of the Intersect Project and primary caregiver to the man you yourself described as its CPU. I need to know what caused the extraordinary personality shift of this morning and your assistance is both requested and required. Is that clear?"

"Very clear, Doctor Woodcombe."

"What is your full name?"

Pride plus pleasure equals joy. "I am Sarah Lisa Bartowski."

"Mrs. Bartowski, you are aware that this interview is being recorded?"

"Yes, I am."

"You told Agent Shaw you were Sarah Carmichael?"

"Charles told me to."

"You were simply doing what he told you?"

"It's hard to say no to Charles Carmichael."

"But you can easily say no to your husband."

"Ellie, that's not what I meant and you know it."

"Mrs. Bartowski–"

"Sorry. Doctor Woodcombe. Or should I call you Carmichael too?"

"Meaning what?"

"Eleanor Woodcombe is a person, a friend, a wife, a sister, a mother. But here we have a threat to Chuck and all of that is gone. Is it any surprise that Chuck would do the same, only in a spy mode rather than a scientist mode?"

"So his behavior doesn't strike you as in any way unusual?"

"God, no. I've been seeing Charles Carmichael in him from the moment I met him, although it was for the sake of a young ballerina, not me. He shushed Casey with a gesture and faced us both down for the sake of his sister, that first mission. I participated in the interrogation of Colt, so I'm not surprised to see it come out so full-blown today, any more than I am to see you so purposeful right now."

"Have you ever interacted with Charles Carmichael?"

"No I have not, except by radio this morning, nor do I wish to."

"Why not?"

"I love Chuck Bartowski. I married Chuck Bartowski. Charles Carmichael is very focused, and very cold." _Too much like me. _She shivered. _I need warm Chuck._

Ellie hid her smile at the motion. _Thank you, Sarah._"This concludes the interview." She leaned forward and turned off the recording. "We still on for the weekend?"

"Sure." Sarah stood. "Will you be releasing Chuck soon?"

"Uh…no, I have to interview Casey yet. Due diligence, and all that."

"Good. Keep me informed, will you? I have his punishment to arrange. Those take time."

_Punishment? _"Do I want to know?"

"As his sister, probably not. As his primary caregiver…"

Hands flew to cover ears. "TMI!"

* * *

"State your name and rank for the record, please."

He'd been expecting something like this. "Colonel John Casey, United States Marine Corps."

"Colonel, I am conducting a semi-unofficial inquiry on behalf of General Beckman, into the events of this morning and your assistance is requested. This conversation is being recorded. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Colonel, state the nature of your relationship with 'Mad Dog' Carmichael."

Casey grunted. "It started out as a joke, I guess it still is. In the course of a mission in his own identity, the asset Chuck Bartowski prevented his cover from being blown by expanding on his cover as Charles Carmichael."

"Expanding how?"

"Bartowski revealed himself to the target as a Special Agent of the CIA. I was forced to go along with this charade, and embellished it further by creating the nickname, 'Mad Dog', in an attempt to convince the target of Special Agent Carmichael's ability. This was all mentioned in my report of the mission."

"Yes, Colonel, we found the reference. In a footnote. On page twelve."

She could hear him shrug. "It didn't seem important."

"It wasn't. Then. It is now."

"For what it's worth, Doctor, I didn't see anything at the time to indicate that Bartowski was doing anything other than playing a role. The way he acted yesterday is new to me, although I remember the Colt interrogations mentioning it."

"Yes, I reviewed the tapes of those. It must have been quite the performance, too bad there are no recordings."

"You think it was just a performance, then?"

"You think otherwise?"

"I never thought he was a killer, but I think he was awfully quick to abandon those men to their fates. You heard what he said to Shaw."

"He knew his wife, and the others, knew what they could and would do in that situation. He didn't know the Ring agents or order those deaths, he just accepted them as inevitable. He's sympathetic to a fault but I can understand his apparent callousness in this context."

Casey grunted. It could have meant anything, or nothing.

* * *

"Your analysis, Doctor?"

"Good news, General. I've interviewed Casey and Sarah, and reviewed the interrogation of Colt. My analysis of the telemetry is only begun, and I have seen some signs of unusual brain activity, but nothing that would indicate any serious or permanent alterations. I released Chuck a few minutes ago, to complete his cover duties and return home, hopefully to rest."

"Hopefully?"

"Sarah had plans of some kind."

"Hmm. Yes. I reviewed Carina's report of the mission already. Hopefully Chuck will be fit for duty tomorrow."

"General!"

"You're a doctor. Suck it up."

Sigh. "Yes, ma'am." Her cell buzzed. She glanced at the text. "General, stay on the line, please. I have to make a call." Without waiting for an acknowledgement she flipped through her contacts. "Sarah, what's the emergency?"

On the screen, Beckman suddenly focused.

"Yes, I'm still onsite. Who? Dimples? No. I don't know anyone named–what you _mean_ Chuck's been detained?"

Beckman picked up her phone.

"Okay, Sarah, we're on it. We'll see you when you get back." She ended the call, looked up to see the General on the phone but waiting for her. "General, Chuck's been arrested for assault!"

Beckman's face went completely still. "Who?"

"Special Agent Daniel Shaw. Chuck knocked him out cold!"

* * *

**A/N2** Okay, maybe it's diverging more than I planned. Everyone who feels sorry for Agent Shaw, raise your hands. The rest of you leave comments.


	2. First Class

**A/N** Shaw is simply a humble special agent trying to take down a world-spanning conspiracy and avenge his wife's death. It's not like he's psychotically evil, or anything.

* * *

"_Charles Carmichael is very focused, and very cold."_

"_I think he was awfully quick to abandon those men to their fates."_

"_I have seen some signs of unusual brain activity."_

"_General, Chuck's been arrested for assault!"_

* * *

Discomfort reigned at Langley, and it was all Chuck Bartowski's fault. He'd been caught brawling in the hallways. They couldn't have that, that was FBI crap. He'd injured a Special Agent. They couldn't have that either. Everybody knew (hey, it's the CIA!), everybody was watching, and they couldn't punish him.

Fortunately the Special Agent in question, one Daniel Shaw, woke up and accepted responsibility for the affair. The charges were promptly reduced to disorderly conduct and the spilling of mop water, and Chuck was remanded to his immediate superiors for punishment.

Tough Guy left Dimples' office in shock, surprised to find most of his IM colleagues there awaiting the verdict. _No wonder Casey loves it here._ Even Sarah was there, in a seat of honor. "I have officially been reprimanded for failing in my duty. Daniel Shaw got up much too soon."

Pebbles nodded. "You take someone down, Tough Guy, you're supposed to take them all the way down."

Tough Guy nodded in miserable dejection. "That's what Dimples said. I'm to report to the duty officer each day, and spend part of each day sparring until my performance reaches acceptable minimums."

"Don't worry, Chuck," said Agent Sarah Carmichael, and Walker before that, his handler. "They'll be careful."

The big, tough guys fell over themselves agreeing with her.

Except Ladyfeelings. "Okay, Tough Guy. That's the official verdict. How about unofficially?"

Tough Guy stood up straight, slowly drew his hand from pocket, raised it to his chest, and carefully inserted Dimples' cigar in a place of honor in his shirt pocket.

Ladyfeelings grunted his approval as they all applauded. "That's more like it."

* * *

"All right, Mr. Bartowski, what happened?"

"Daniel Shaw approached me as I was leaving the office, General. He was insistent on entering, wanted to speak with Agent Carmichael about an operation."

"You refused, of course."

"He wouldn't take no for an answer, and the situation escalated. He tried to force his way past me."

"Is that when you attacked him?"

Chuck shook his head. "I…don't know, General. He was pushing, I was pushing back, we were both yelling, Casey was nowhere in sight, and then-then he was on the ground, and I was standing over him, and people were saying I went all kung fu on his a-, uh, anatomy. That's all I know."

Beckman switched her focus. "Doctor?"

"General, one of my goals in developing the Intersect was to separate the skills, especially the fighting skills Chuck would use in his own defense, from the data. I believe this goal has been partially achieved, although it took the stress of the last mission to make it apparent. This would account for the unusual activity I saw in the scans."

"Very good. The next item on the agenda then is the office. It was supposed to remain unnoticed. You were never supposed to be seen entering or leaving, Chuck, no one was."

"Charles Carmichael was never supposed to actually be here. Shaw wasn't looking for the office, but the man. I guess he assumed an unused office would be a good place to start looking."

"Let's send Charles Carmichael someplace far away, then, let Shaw go haring off after him. I can pull some strings if I have to but I'd rather let him go on his own. Until then, Sarah, stay close. You'll have to run interference."

Sarah smiled. "Yes, ma'am."

Beckman smiled back. "Dismissed."

"We're going home _now_, Chuck. I want to tell you all about my trip to Hawaii." Sarah grabbed Chuck by the collar. "Stay close."

"General! Ellie! Help!"

Both screens went blank.

* * *

"They call you 'Tough Guy'," someone said the next morning, in a smooth, precise voice. Chuck turned from his polishing to face Shaw, who was touching the bandage on his face. "I can see why." He watched as Chuck slowly stood erect. "You seem a little…stiff."

_So do you. _"Rough night." Chuck looked around, noted all the people not watching them. "Are we supposed to be within a thousand yards of each other, sir?"

Shaw smiled. "No hard feelings, Chuck. You did the right thing, I'm only surprised you did it so well. I'd like to take you to lunch, if you don't mind?" He gestured.

It would be public, of course. "The CIA Commissary?" Shaw nodded. "You must have deep pockets. I can barely afford the vending machines in there." _Help._

* * *

Shaw chose the table (good view of the room, back to the wall), but Chuck chose his chair, watching as the room slowly filled and emptied. "Can I just cut to the chase, Agent Shaw? You still want to pump me for information about Mr. Carmichael. I must say I appreciate your technique better this time." The food was better than he normally got to eat.

"Mister—what do they call you besides 'Tough Guy'?"

"Call me Chuck."

"Okay, Chuck. I asked you to lunch to apologize for last time. I was hasty, and rude."

"Must have been important. You don't even look like that hurt."

"It does, and it is. What you lack in finesse you make up in enthusiasm."

"I meant the apology."

"Embarrassment is a luxury I can't afford. My hasty rudeness has cost me another day, and time is pressing. If you could help me contact Agent Carmichael, it would be–"

Just then, Chuck laughed, a machine-gun, rapid-fire, braying laugh completely unlike the sounds he normally made. Across the room, a somewhat portly man named Sam reacted to the noise, looking about covertly. "You're kidding, right?" said Chuck, not seeming aware of Sam's presence. "You want me to tell tales out of school about Agent Walker's husband? He tore strips out of an NSA Major over a parking space." Sam looked up, caught his eye.

Shaw looked a little confused by the slight jog in the conversation. "Not at all. I want to contact him about an operation."

Chuck didn't answer, more interested in Sam as he talked into his phone. Plus the food was good, it would be a shame to ignore it.

Thrust. "Would you mind indulging my curiosity, Chuck?"

Parry. "I will if you'll indulge mine."

Feint. "If I can. Most of the things I have to talk about aren't fit topics for cafeteria conversation."

"Why are you pretending to be left-handed?"

"I…beg your pardon?"

"You eat like a leftie but comb your hair, wear your watch, and tie your tie like a rightie. What gives?"

Shaw saluted his guest's astuteness with a toast, and a graceful surrender. "I was wounded recently. Right shoulder."

Nothing about why. Interesting. "You took a bullet in your right shoulder, saving the life of Mrs. Carmichael when she was practically defenseless. It's because of that that I'm talking to you at all. Ask your question." _Hopefully she'll get here before I have to answer it._

Shaw abandoned any pretense of eating. "Why do you, alone of all the people in Langley, have access to Agent Carmichael's office?"

"Because my husband looks after his own," said Sarah Walker, striding up to their table. "And so do I."

"I wasn't saying anything, Agent Walker."

"I know you weren't, Chuck. Good boy."

Shaw stood. "My apologies if I overstepped my bounds–"

Sarah smiled, and they sat down together. "You did, Mr. Shaw, but no apologies are needed. Charles made it possible for Chuck to keep people's distance for them, as you discovered." She ran her fingers through Chuck's curly hair, him not even trying to fight her off. "We owe you a favor as well, Mr. Shaw, but you're trying our patience."

He held up his empty hands, placatingly. "I have an operation I can't do myself."

Sarah sighed, and stood. "Say goodbye to the nice man, Chuck."

Chuck instantly stood up and stuck out his hand. "Thank you for the nice lunch, Mr. Shaw. Good luck with your operation."

Shaw stood and shook his hand. "Thanks, Chuck. I'll see you around, I guess."

"Now, Chuck," said Sarah. As he passed her out the door, she turned back to her former host. "Word to the wise, Agent Shaw. Keep your distance."

Shaw sat and finished his lunch, satisfied.

Once around the corner she asked, "Flash drive?"

Chuck shook his head. "Microdot. Class act, that guy."

* * *

"You're going to Paris? Without me?"

"What can I say, Chuck? That's the mission. Discover the courier, get the key, return to DC with said key. No sightseeing."

"No Eiffel Tower?"

"I climbed it once, so the romance may have worn off for me."

"I'd let you borrow mine, if I was coming."

Borrow his what? It couldn't be the skills, Ellis hadn't signed off on those yet. It couldn't be the data, he wouldn't have any. _Oh–!_ "Chuck, I told you, no honeymoon couple."

"Why not? It's not like we've already had one."

"Because…because someday we'll get there for real, and I don't want to spoil it."

He smiled. "Hey! I got you a present!"

_God, he was so…sweet!_ "Chuck, you already gave me some nunchuks, what more does a girl need?"

"This!" He put a small box in her hands, and she opened it.

"A pen and…eyeglasses set?" There had to be more to it than that. "A KGB knockout pen, and my camera glasses."

"Your _sexy_ camera glasses, and the camera is in the pen, along with a transsceiver, so I can see what it sees with you. No knockout drops, I'm afraid. Oo, and check this out!" He touched the pen to the earpiece, and it stuck. "Magnetized! You can put the pen behind your ear facing either way, free your hands for dirty work, and build up your nerd-cred all at the same time!"

She shook her head, putting his little doodads in her pockets. He was so…cute when he was being all nerdy.

* * *

She squirmed in her seat, considerably less charmed by her husband's cuteness than she been mere hours before. _Is every flight going to be like this? _At least he hadn't kissed her. Sighing, she took her book of Sudoku puzzles and headed off to the bathroom for the first of many visits on a trans-Atlantic flight. Once safely locked in she attached the pen to her glasses, got out her second pen, and wrote "I'm going to kill you!" on the back of the book. A second later the screen flashed ':( ' and she felt a bit better. Then she read the instructions on how to actually solve a Sudoku, since her cover required it and the flight would be long.

At least her seatmate wasn't too bad. Chuck's only reaction to Hannah's image was to say "Cute!", whereupon Sarah had pointed the camera in some other direction. Sarah had never played the 'Guess the Passenger' game, but when Hannah started she used it as an excuse to point her pen. Apparently Chuck knew the game, though, on the third try he'd figured it out and sent 'Yale Fencing Team' over the screen just in time for Sarah to sound like a genius.

Or maybe they _were_ the Yale Fencing Team.

Unfortunately they couldn't see the whole compartment from where they were. Several passengers had already put up their privacy screens which blocked her view. The bathrooms were forward, but she needed an excuse to go aft. The bar! Perfect.

Hannah was thirsty. Terrific. Well, on the bright side, she wouldn't be sitting there alone looking at people, like some kind of spy. Fortunately Sarah knew enough about Paris, and far too much about the damned Eiffel Tower, to not sound like a yokel. She dragged out their chat, nursing her drink as best she could, but with the sign off everyone was feeling free to move about the cabin, and she had trouble finding passengers she hadn't seen before.

"Another?" asked Hannah.

Sarah shook her head. "Only one per flight, that's my rule."

Hannah shook her head. "Waste of a good First Class perq, if you ask me."

As Hannah signaled to the stewardess-turned-bartender, Sarah looked idly past her. Suddenly images flashed on her screen, names and vital statistics. Hugo Panzer, Ring Agent and vastly more than a mere courier. Not to mention almost as big as Colt, and she was going to have to go through him to get the key. She scribbled a quick message on her napkin with her second pen.

"Note to self: Kill Daniel Shaw!"

* * *

**A/N2** Time for the next commercial break. Feel free to move about the cabin. And maybe leave a comment as you go.


	3. Air Pressure

**A/N** Taking Hannah in a bit of a different direction in this story. Not for her sake so much as Sarah's.

* * *

"_Let's send Charles Carmichael someplace far away, then."_

"_They call you 'Tough Guy'."_

"_Say goodbye to the nice man, Chuck."_

"_Note to self: Kill Daniel Shaw!"_

* * *

"Sarah, can I ask you a question?" asked Hannah.

Sarah nodded.

Hannah pointed. "Are you really married, or is that just the standard beautiful woman's ploy to avoid being hit on?"

_Why? Don't I look it? _"Very married," said Sarah, looking down at the rings on her hand. "Very happy. Why do you ask?"

"Most women I've ever met who are 'very married and very happy' can't stop talking about it. We've been in the air an hour now and I haven't heard you mention your husband once, and now you're saying you want to kill Daniel Shaw." Hannah pointed at Sarah's napkin. "I'm guessing he's not your husband."

Sarah smiled, amused at the idea of stolid, passionless Shaw being anyone's husband, much less hers. "No, he's just a colleague. My husband's name is Chuck."

"Chuck? Do parents still name their kids that?"

Sarah tried to look insulted, but couldn't quite pull it off. "He goes by 'Charles' for professional reasons. We like to keep our private lives private."

"So you're on this flight for professional reasons?"

_Time to change the subject._ "I wouldn't be in first class if I wasn't. I'm not that kind of girl."

Hannah downed her drink in a gulp. "Who is? This is my last trip in this cabin, too. I'm flying back to Paris to clean out my office."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. Who did you work for?"

"Private investor. I was his resident computer geek and tech whiz, he would fly me all over the world to look after his interests. Guess he decided he couldn't afford me anymore." She signaled for another drink.

"I hope you'll be all right."

"You mean money?" Hannah waved a hand. "I've got money, he invested for me, too. It's just, I thought he valued me, you know. He sent me first class because he valued me. I could fly first class myself but what would be the point?" Her drink arrived, and she tossed back a good bit. "But no, it was about him, always him, his reputation. _Men_."

"I can tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt that not all men are like that."

"Because of your Charles-but-my-friends-call-me-Chuck? I'm very happy for you. I'm sure he's a saint."

"He's the most wonderful man I've ever met."

"And here you are, flying to Paris alone."

Sarah touched her glasses. _I'm not alone. "_If Shaw hadn't tricked me into taking this flight I'd be with him right now. I'm the one who has to work at it here. I'm the one who's undeserving."

"Hey!" Hannah pointed a slightly wavering finger at her seatmate. "Don't you ever sell yourself short like that. Too many people willing to do that already. You think it's a coincidence we're the only women in this cabin?" Another one bit the dust.

"Perhaps we should go back to our seats." _Perhaps we should get away from the bar._

"Oh, you think I want to go to Paris alone? Clean out my office and take a coach flight home sober? When he's paying for my drinks? That's a win-win in my book."

Sarah put her hand on Hannah's glass. "I've been numb. It doesn't help."

Hannah pulled the glass out from under. "It'll help today." The stewardess took the glass.

"It's your tomorrow I'm worried about."

"It's too late," said a gruff voice from behind Hannah. Hugo Panzer stood there, waiting for his own drink and looking on dispassionately. "The effects of alcohol are enhanced by high altitude and lower cabin pressure, sometimes as much as three hundred percent. Given her lower mass, I'm afraid your friend is already gone, she just hasn't gotten there yet."

"She's not my friend," said Hannah, wrapping her fingers around Sarah's glass.

"I _am_ your friend, Hannah," said Sarah, gripping the other woman's arm. "This is what friends do for each other."

"Let go!" Hannah jerked her hand back, splashing the contents of the glass all over Panzer's shirt. She went from combative to shocked instantly. "Oh, gosh! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She grabbed Sarah's napkin and started wiping up Sarah's drink, starting at the top of his shirt and working her way down.

"I think I can handle the rest," he said when she got to his waist, taking the napkin from her. "Your friend is right, you need to get back to your seat." He swept her up easily. "Watch my drink," he told Sarah.

"I'll put it by your seat."

He nodded, and carried Hannah down the aisle, following her slurred directions. If anybody thought it was odd nobody was about to say anything.

Sarah thought it was Heaven-sent. The second he was gone she took his drink to his seat as promised, pulled out his claim ticket and scanned it with her pen before putting it back and heading over to join them at her own seat. "Thanks. You've been a real gentleman."

He gave her a curt nod and was gone.

Sarah grabbed her book of puzzles and stood up.

"Sure, time to go potty," mumbled Hannah. "I do all the drinking and you do all the peeing. What are you, pregnant or something?"

_Definitely 'or something'._ "I'll be right back." Sarah put her book down and walked forward, to the water cooler. She put the cup in the holder at her seat and got a small bottle of pills from her pocket. "Here," she said, handing Hannah the pill and the water. "Take this. It'll ease your inevitable hangover." The pill would do more than that, it prevented the inebriation in the first place, but Hannah had no need to know that.

Hannah took them. "You _are_ my friend."

"Yes, Hannah, I'm your friend." Puzzle book in hand, Sarah left her seatmate to doze while she sought out the nearest access to the cargo hold. She aimed her pen at the lock and was rewarded with a series of numbers to unlock the elevator. She wrote 'license plate' on her book and scanned it before getting on the elevator. A string of letters appeared, the baggage claim ticket for Panzer's luggage. She had it memorized before the elevator stopped.

_Oh, great._ Pallets of luggage, stacked and webbed. Hopefully Panzer's bag wasn't in the middle of one.

* * *

Hugo Panzer sat in his seat, not quite enjoying his well-watered Scotch. He preferred it neat, but he also knew a lot more about the effects of alcohol at high altitude than Tiny Upset Lady did. He put the glass back in the holder, wiping the water from his fingers with a crumpled up napkin.

* * *

Sarah was getting sore, stretching high and bending low, so many bags and tags, including her own. There had to be a better way than this. She stood and stretched, looking around. _What's that?_ Something silver, something different. A casket! Customs didn't search caskets, did they? No they didn't. And what do you know, the tags match!

Okay, a real dead, real old guy. In the pockets? She patted him down gently but there was nothing. Where would it be that someone could just reach in and get? She gripped the sleeve and flipped over the top hand. Bingo! And _Eww_!

She stuck the key in her pocket and stood. The camera behind her ear stopped showing her the image of the ceiling. Instead she saw the image of Hugo Panzer, just as he started to strike.

* * *

Chuck yelled "Sarah!" as the screen went black.

"Chuck, you're spiking!"

"Ellie, Panzer's got Sarah."

* * *

Panzer possibly had Sarah, but Sarah definitely had good reflexes and a pair of nunchuks, and she knew how to use them against unarmed, very large men. This very large man quickly learned to stay out of range. "Daniel Shaw, huh?" he said, holding up her napkin. He crumpled it for effect. "We didn't know he had a partner. He won't soon." He reached into a block of luggage and pulled out a short sword. "Why don't you come over here and I'll make this quick. You must know those sticks have no chance against a sword."

If Sarah had been trying to defeat him with her sticks he might have been right. Instead she fought a purely defensive battle, using the sticks to deflect his thrusts as she danced around him. Twice he tried to block her into a corner with his bulk, twice she squeezed past him.

"I can do this all day, little lady," he said, not even breathing hard. "You haven't even touched me."

Sarah swung her hand at the last strap on the pallet next to her, the razor edge of the fingernail parting it with ease. Third time was the charm. Hugo went down under an avalanche of baggage. "Haven't been trying to," she said, watching him struggle, dazed. She stepped forward, swinging her sticks for the coups de grace.

* * *

"Chuck, what's happening? Your vitals have gone down."

"It's all right, Ellie." Chuck blew a kiss to his wife, not that she'd be able to see it but he could at least see her. She turned the pen to show Panzer, unconscious and restrained. "Sarah's got Panzer. And the key."

* * *

Sarah stopped by the bathroom for a quick touch-up before going back to her seat. It wouldn't do to look like she'd just been through a major brawl with a human tank. She found her new friend, up and alert and looking uncomfortable. "How you doing? Sober?"

"Stone cold. Don't feel good," said Hannah. "Stomach hurts."

"Really?" Her pills shouldn't have made her feel nauseous.

"Your drink didn't help."  
Sarah looked down at a glass in her seat's holder. "I didn't order any drink. I told you, only one per flight."

"I know that. I figured you wouldn't want so I drank it myself. It tasted terrible, how can you drink that?"

"Which stewardess?" Sarah looked around.

"I don't know, they all look alike," said Hannah, groaning. "She said it was from the man in 22-B."

22-b was Panzer's seat. Somehow Sarah doubted that he'd sent her a drink as a gesture of gratitude. Sarah grabbed Hannah's arm, threw it over her shoulder and lifted the smaller woman out of her seat. "Come on, Hannah."

"Where are you taking me?" A stewardess moved to intercept them.

"We've got to get you to a bathroom before you throw up all over the seats." The stewardess moved out of her way. Sarah slammed the door open, dropped Hannah on the toilet seat and slammed the door shut again.

Hannah doubled over, clutching her stomach. "I said pain, not nausea."

"I know you did," said Sarah. "In an hour, you'll be in more pain than you can possibly imagine."

Hannah looked up. "Huh?"

Sarah knelt, trying to gentle the coming blow. "You're not sick, Hannah. You've been poisoned."

"Why would someone poison me?"

"They didn't. They were trying to poison me, but you drank it first. And to save you the effort of asking why someone would poison me, I'll tell you: I'm with the CIA."

* * *

**A/N2** What is it about Sarah and Tech Support?


	4. Sudden Turbulence

**A/N** Just so you know, this is not femslash. Sarah could use a friend, and Hannah is an awful lot like Chuck.

* * *

"_She's not my friend."_

"_Panzer's got Sarah."_

"_Stomach hurts." _

"_I'm with the CIA."_

* * *

Hannah looked at Sarah with pain in her eyes. Sarah hoped it was just her stomach. "You're a spy?"

"Agent, yes."

"You were spying on me?" No, not just her stomach.

"No, not at all. I was just sitting next to you. I tried to stay as far from you as I could." _I wanted to keep you safe._

"And I followed you. Serves me right." She folded over in a sudden spasm. "Am I going to die now?"

"Not if I can stop it. I don't let my friends die."

Hannah's head came up. "Friends?" _Were we ever…? Are we still…?_

"If you still want to be. I wasn't lying to you, out there. Well, not about that."

Someone knocked on the door. "Can I help you?"

Sarah opened the door. "No, thank you, we're–"

The stewardess pointed a small gun into Sarah's face.

* * *

"Sarah!"

"Chuck?"

"Ellie!"

* * *

"Well, we _were_ fine."

"I want the key."

"I want the antidote."

The stewardess looked shocked. "You'd give up the key to save a civilian?"

"No, I just said I wanted the antidote. I'd prefer not to have to kill you to get it." Unfortunately, the room they were in was too small for Sarah to act effectively. She could go for the gun but the stewardess was close enough that she couldn't miss, and if she did miss the only thing left to hit was the plane itself. She had to get some room to maneuver. "Fine, you win. I hid it down below. Give her the antidote and I'll show you where."

"You show me where and I'll give her the antidote before I shoot you. Mess with me and you'll both watch each other die in agony."

"I've had better offers."

"Today?"

"Unfortunately, no." Sarah leaned toward Hannah and lifted her arm over her shoulder again. "Time to go."

This wasn't going according to plan. "You're bringing the civilian?"

"Is that any business of yours?"

"Fine. Burden yourself. See if I care."

* * *

"Hello again, Mr. Panzer. Did I mention how I thought you were such a gentleman earlier?" Sarah released Hannah's arm, allowing the brunette to settle herself down on a piece of luggage left strewn about.

"If you did, I've forgotten it. Concussions have that effect on short-term memory."

"I thought you were a professional. Don't tell me you're holding a grudge?"

Panzer smacked her across the face, sending the glasses flying. "No. I let my grudges go at the earliest opportunity."

* * *

_Not again._

Chuck saw the blow coming, and flinched on his wife's behalf. The screen went all static-y for a second, the electronics in the pen not at all meant for such abuse.

* * *

Sarah didn't flinch, the force of the blow turned her head to watch as Hannah caught the glasses. Slowly, she turned her head back towards Panzer, one finger lightly stroking the side of her nose, where the glasses had hit hardest. "You're going to regret that."

"Am I?"

* * *

Ellie's screens were in turmoil. "Chuck, what's going on in there?"

Chuck was busy with his monitor. "I'm sorry, Charles Bartowski is not in right now–"

"If you say 'beep' I swear I will break down that door and kill you myself!"

* * *

Panzer reached out and grabbed Sarah's arm, hauling her to stand between the two Ring agents. "You're alone, CIA. All you've got is a poisoned civilian for backup. No one in this whole plane knows we're even here."

"You're so right," said Sarah. "And so wrong. I am CIA, but I'm not alone."

Panzer smirked. "She's all yours, Serena."

The stewardess grabbed at her. "Enough talk, CIA. Give me the key." She raised her gun and aimed at Sarah's right eye. In the other hand she held a small bottle. "Or perhaps I'll just let this fall and watch your friend die, for the fun of it."

* * *

The screen came back into focus. Hannah's face, distorted by interference. No, that wasn't interference. That was pain. That was fear. And she could only be looking at one thing.

Ellie's screen's flatlined.

"Chuck? Are you all right?"

Charles was upping the gain, disabling the overrides, and tearing out the hardwired buffers with his bare hands. "I'm fine, Eleanor. Really."

* * *

"One last chance," said Sarah. "Give her the antidote, and you won't get hurt."

Serena burst out laughing, followed by Panzer. Her face hardened. "Any last words, CIA?"

"Sure," said Sarah, with a sigh. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

Charles pressed a button.

* * *

The pen in Hannah's hand began to heat up, as it received a far more intense signal than it had been designed for. The damaged glasses spread the signal, down in the hold. Outside the insulation that protected the plane's sensitive electronics from cell phone signals. There's a reason they don't want cell phones on planes.

The plane went into a dive.

Sarah caught her hand on the webbing of the pallet nearest her, lashing out at the hand holding the gun with her foot, before Serena could do something stupid like fire it and possibly kill them all. The pistol went flying, but Sarah caught the bottle.

Hugo Panzer braced himself against the sudden acceleration, and lurched into motion to help his partner.

Hannah's fingers hurt as the pen began to burn, just as Panzer stepped in front of her. She fell forward, pen in hand, driving it as hard as she could into his leg.

Behind Serena, the unlocked coffin lid flipped open.

Sarah shifted her grip, and with a second kick sent Serena stumbling backward to land, sprawled atop the body. Panzer, in sudden agony, lost control and barely kept his balance as he stumbled the length of the hold, slamming into a distant pallet. Hannah dropped the pen and curled into a ball as luggage started to fall around her.

One of them hit the pen and smashed it. The plane righted itself as the interference stopped.

Serena opened her eyes, staring down into the cold, dead face. The lid of the coffin dropped on the beginning of her scream. Panzer rebounded off the pallet and stumbled back up the aisle, tripping over the coffin. Sarah seized the handle of a piece of hard-shell luggage and gave him another concussion. He sagged over the coffin, trapping his partner within.

"Hannah?" Sarah called, and her friend squirmed her way out from under some bags. "Drink this." She handed her the bottle. "I need you to do me a favor."

The antidote tasted worse than the poison, but that wasn't Sarah's fault either. The settling in her stomach, the end of pain, _that_ was something her friend had done for her. "Name it."

Sarah handed her the damaged pen. "I need to get a signal out."

Hannah took it, astonished at the circuitry within. "Um…one question."

"Yeah?"

She looked at the coffin, grimacing at the muffled shrieks. "You gonna let her out of there anytime soon?"

Sarah sighed. "I'm thinking about it."

* * *

Ellie's monitors beeped. "Chuck?"

"Yes, Ellie?"

"Is everything all right in there?"

Charles smiled, turning off the monitor that had just flashed an image of his wife's smiling face before going dark again. "Yes, Ellie. We're fine."

* * *

The plane touched down, rousing Hannah from her 'oh my god what just happened' stupor. She looked out the window, all the familiar sights suddenly unfamiliar. "So what happens now?"

Sarah stretched, these seats were just too, too comfortable. "Well, unless I miss my guess, I would expect a team of agents stationed here in Paris to have been alerted by Charles to come on board and take our two friends away. I would further expect that when the plane turned around and flew home I would still be on it, since my mission is done and they'll be wanting to talk to me about things." _And I'll be wanting to talk to Mr. Shaw about a _lot_ of things!_

"You can't stay, hang out a bit?" _Keep me company?_

"I've seen Paris," said Sarah, and Hannah slumped. "The hard parts, at least. If you want to know what the outside of the Eiffel Tower looks like I can describe it in excruciating detail." Then she thought of Chuck. "But my husband's never seen Paris, and he wants to, very much. So I'll come back with him when we finally get time for a honeymoon, and maybe I'll see the sweet parts then."

"I'm sorry I said what I said about him, before. I'm sure he really is a saint." _He'd have to be._

"I doubt you'll ever meet him, but you're right. He's so much better than–"

"Hey!"

"I know, I know, don't sell myself short."

"Better." The plane lurched to a halt, and Hannah discovered that they had taxied up to the terminal and she'd completely missed it. The journey was over. When the stewardess started her announcements, she stood, like all the other passengers except one.

Sarah didn't move at all. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

Hannah looked down, to see the strangest, saddest expression on her friend's face. "Why not?"

Sarah pointed at the seat, and Hannah settled back into it. "Why do you think?"

* * *

"No, Chuck, we're not going to throw her into a bunker," said General Beckman patiently. "But she has, however inadvertently, gotten mixed up in our business, and she will need to be debriefed, at the very least. After that, we'll have to see."

"General, she had to be the one who fixed the pen long enough to send us even that brief flash at the end. In a cargo hold, with no tools. That's got to count for something."

"It does, Mr. Bartowski. But the plane hasn't even landed yet so no promises." Her monitor went black.

"Did I ever mention that this was an unfair life?"

"Yes, Chuck, many times," said Ellie. "But why would you want fair, Chuck? 'Unfair' equals opportunity. Without occasions to rise to, how can you rise to them? 'Unfair' is the mother of greatness, Charles."

_Then I'm Superman._ "It's also the mother of roadkill, Eleanor." No, not Superman. Superman could never have been roadkill. Batman, now there's a hero!

"Ready for download?"

* * *

"Hey Chuck," said Devon as he answered the door early the next morning. "I hope you're not here for Ellie, she's still sleeping off the last all-nighter you guys put her through."

"Yes, so's Sarah. That's why I'm here, this seemed like a good time to get in a good run. If you're up for it, that is."

Devon smiled. He was always up for a good run. "Sure thing, bro. Come on in, and I'll go get my gear. What's that?"

He held up a bottle. "I've been experimenting with protein shakes, Big Guy. They don't have to taste like roadkill, you know."

"Outstanding! Stick it in the fridge, we'll have some when we get back."

"Sure thing," said Charles.

* * *

**A/N2** The flatline scene is a shout-out to the terrific beginning of the finale from the movie Equilibrium. I can't give the full link here, it seems. www youtube com slash watch?v=y_JGI0JhCkQ. Or you can go to youtube and search for 'Equilibrium - Not without incident.'


End file.
